


When I First Saw You, the End Was Soon

by rosepetalsofsin



Series: The Verger Affair [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Codependency, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalsofsin/pseuds/rosepetalsofsin
Summary: Mason has a subscription to an OnlyFans he should really know nothing about.But when he finally meets his sister Margot's friend, he thinks he might have found the man of his fantasies.
Relationships: Margot Verger/Mason Verger, Mason Verger/Original Character(s)
Series: The Verger Affair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740532
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	When I First Saw You, the End Was Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for someone special to me~ Happy birthday, bby <3
> 
> Unbeta'd because I've been pushing to just get the words out and on paper.  
> As always, if you don't like it, you don't have to read!

Baltimore is beautiful.

It’s beautiful in the way that it doesn’t look like home -- or what home used to be. No, that place is far behind Oskar, feels further and further away with every day that passes by. And Baltimore has so much more to offer.

The job opportunity was too good to decline, anyway. He’s lucky to work as an apprentice in a tattoo shop, even luckier to be paid for his position. It’s a hole in the wall of a place, nothing fancy but nice enough to keep customers coming. Oskar likes it there.

But no place is as welcoming as Oskar’s apartment, his own space where he can unwind. It’s nothing special, but it’s  _ home _ , simple and out of the way. Where he can hear the city but lies just outside of it, a middle ground. It’s perfect.

The city can be so hectic, he knew that, but Baltimore is different. It’s electrifying, the way it keeps you on your toes, though it’s exhausting at times. Oskar tries to make the most of it.

He has more acquaintances than friends, and dating hasn’t gone so well. He’s tried the whole hooking-up scene, and as fun as that can be, it still leaves him wanting  _ more _ . So he’s set it aside to focus on other things.

Like making ends meet.

It’s not like Oskar didn’t try and look for other jobs, but it’s hard to navigate the city without a car, and riding services are so  _ expensive _ for a person on a budget. But the idea came to him rather late one night, and the more he thought about it, the more it started to sound like it could be fun…

So, he started an OnlyFans. He has his rules, never shows his face on camera, always wears his binder, and doesn’t take mistreatment. If he doesn’t feel like logging on, he doesn’t make himself, but when he gets into it, it makes him feel so  _ free _ \-- free from worry, from concern. From everything but the attention and some really good pay.

Oskar earns every dollar he makes.

Sometimes, he wonders what it would be like to have come from a rich family, if things would be even more perfect. But he knows someone who was born to a rich family, and with everything she’s told him, he’s not so sure that it would be so perfect.

Her name is Margot Verger. He met her by chance at a Pride event not long after he moved to Baltimore, and they’ve been in touch ever since. Oskar considers her his best friend, and over time, Margot returned the same openness with him.

And the things she's told him…

Oskar doesn’t judge, honest. But he does worry about Margot, about when she has to return home to her family’s estate, goes silent for days at a time before she returns his messages. He doesn’t have to ask why, just waits for the chance to see her again, his best friend.

But when he finds himself alone, he can feel  _ really _ alone. And that’s no fun.

So, he gets online.

* * *

It’s not easy, running a business. Papa never said it was going to be easy, and sure, it’s gotten easier in part since Mason had to take over the family business, but it still takes its toll.

Everything has a toll.

Papa taught Mason a lot of things, but perhaps one of the most valuable lessons he  _ indirectly _ taught was how to hide things. It’s part of human nature, keeping secrets, and Papa was good at it. But Mason likes to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s better at it.

He has to be. He may not attend church as often as he did before Papa passed, but he’s still active in the church. And what the church doesn’t know can’t hurt his reputation. Because he’s the prodigal son, determined to “reform” from his “old ways,” or so they say.

Everyone loves a sinner reborn.

So, Mason has his secrets -- the kind he doesn’t think too much about apart from when he’s indulging because to do so would be admitting guilt, and that’s nothing Papa would be proud of. Papa was a very prideful man; Mason must reflect that teaching, as well.

But when no one’s watching, when Mason’s truly alone with his door locked and a fresh martini within reach, he indulges in his taste for one of the most forbidden sins.

_ Men. _

It’s not that he doesn’t have a taste for the opposite sex or anyone, really, but there’s always been something about doing something that others would deem  _ wrong _ that just excites him that much more. A guilty pleasure, in every sense.

But he can’t just have one on Muskrat farm, not when his sister Margot is expected home every night, and he doesn’t need her or anyone else on the grounds seeing anything they shouldn’t. He finds it easier to be alone, so long as he still has Margot close by. She’s all he has, after all.

So instead of the physical company, Mason partakes with the next best option. He gets online.

The beauty of it is that online, you can be anyone you want, use any pseudonym your heart desires and no one will know who you truly are, as long as you’re careful. And Mason is very,  _ very _ careful.

At first, it was just looking. Which led to making accounts to look at  _ more _ , which only made him want to interact more. That’s how he ended up here, with subscriptions and plenty of favorites.

But there’s only one person on one site that  _ really _ steals his attention.

His twitter name is Angel, but his handle and OnlyFans name are AngelKiss, and Mason could tell by the freckles he first saw in his pictures that he was more than deserving of the title. And oh, how he loves freckles.

He must be Mason’s favorite because even with a simple subscription to his OnlyFans, he wasn’t satisfied. Well, he really  _ was _ , but the curse of the Verger legacy is that when they like something, they always want  _ more _ . 

So, he’s driven to do something he’s never done before.

Mason requests a private, more  _ personal _ video.

* * *

The day is always so long when Oskar doesn’t have to work. Not that days off aren’t appreciated, but by the time the sun sets, he’s done all he can in his apartment. He even started a new drawing he’s quite proud of, but he’s already set his pencil aside for the evening.

It’s the perfect evening, he knows, to get online. To end the day with some fun and some tips.

By the time he gets to log in, he’s had a shower and made himself comfortable, prepared to make a video. He usually has notifications to check, but the thing that catches his eye is the messages icon. Oskar’s used to comments on videos he posts, but it’s not often he gets direct messages.

\----  
**From: PigPapa**

_ New Private Message!  
_ \----

Oskar’s struck for a moment, staring at the notification. People have to  _ pay _ to send him a message, especially a request. He’s tempted to check his balance, but he’s too excited about the possibilities that he clicks to open the message.

It’s a  _ request!  _ But it’s unusually formatted, almost like a business letter. 

\----  
**PapaPig:** AngelKiss,   
I would like to request a private video. My requirements are as follows:

-I want you to ride one of your toys.

-Edge yourself at least once. Let me hear you beg for it.

-You must call to me as “Papa” in your video.

-I want to hear every sound you make.

Fulfill these requirements, and I am prepared to pay you a sum of $500. Be a good boy and respond within 24 hours, and I will pay twice as much.   
The choice is yours,   
PapaPig  
\----

Oskar can’t believe his eyes. 

He reads the message twice, three times to make sure he read everything correctly. Only then does he notice the timestamp; the message was sent yesterday. A glance at the clock tells him he’s got just over an hour before he misses his window for the twenty-four-hour mark, just enough time to make and send the video.

The excitement takes hold of him quickly. No one’s ever offered that much before, especially not for something so… well, tame, compared to some of the shit people try to request. Most of them end up blocked by the second sentence.

But this one, PapaPig or whoever he is, wants a video of him. No video length requirement, no wardrobe requests, just four things, simple and easy. For a thousand dollars.

Oskar’s ready to show him how  _ worth it _ he really is.

* * *

The video arrives just as Mason logs on.

He’d hoped for an earlier response, but he gave himself the twenty-four hours to prove that he could be patient and to further inspire creativity from dear Angel.

\----  
**AngelKiss:** [Video Attachment:  _ Pending _ ]

Thank you & enjoy <3  
\----

Mason can’t access the video until he pays, and he does so willingly, hastily. Ready to see the show he paid for. The message beneath is short and sweet; to be thanked for the request already excites him. Makes him want to request more, and he hasn’t even watched the first video.

It takes a moment to download, but each second runs Mason’s patience thin. And then it’s there, ready to be played with a time span of 20 minutes at the bottom.

Mason takes a sip of his martini, savors the taste and the moment at hand. Then, he hits play.

* * *

The next morning, Oskar is riding on an all-time high. He checks his bank account to be sure it wasn’t a dream, almost dares to look and see if he has any new messages, but he resists the urge. He likes the anticipation, anyway.

He has to work later, but there’s just enough time to have breakfast -- specifically, with a friend. Margot always treats him when she comes around, as they both know she has way more money at her disposal than Oskar could dream of, but Oskar likes to return the favor when he can.

This is one of those times.

He half expects his call to go unanswered, but by luck, the ringing stops before he hears the sound of her voice.

“You’re up early,” Margot sighs into the phone.

“I know.” Oskar can barely hide the enthusiasm in his voice. “Did I wake you?”

“Actually, you did.” She sounds genuinely surprised by this fact, only to add, “I guess my brother decided to sleep in this morning.”

Oskar almost winces at the mention of him, the twin brother Margot seldom  _ wants _ to talk about, despite nearly always bringing him up. He doesn’t blame her for it; she’s made him aware of some of her situation, how she is tied to him, the heir to their family’s meatpacking business.

She doesn’t disclose everything, but Oskar knows enough. He tries the cheering-up approach. “Would you like to have breakfast with me? Just me and you.”

Margot sighs, sounds almost stressed. “I don’t know, Mason’s been acting really strange recently, and I should probably--”

“It’s my treat,” Oskar insists. “You can worry about your brother later. I’m sure he won’t miss you for a couple of hours.” And he hopes he won’t.

A few beats of silence pass them by until finally, Margot answers. “Let me get dressed. I’ll pick you up at your apartment in an hour, deal?”

Finally, Oskar smiles. “Deal. I’ll see you then.”

Their call ends, and Oskar takes his time in getting ready. Margot always dresses her best, even when she isn’t trying, but he assumes it has more to do with what her brother puts in her closet than what she’s allowed to buy for herself.

He can tell that she tries not to overdo it when they spend time together; after all, he met her wearing a tank top and shorts with her hair in a messy bun at the Pride parade. But that was ages ago, and her brother seems to hold a tighter and tighter grip on her with each passing day.

Oskar counts himself lucky to be able to see her at all.

She arrives in a vehicle with tinted windows, a private driver in the front seat, always facing forward. Oskar knows the drill and only manages small-talk with Margot as they make their way to their favorite breakfast spot. Deeper, more personal conversations are better left away from anyone else -- Margot’s always been careful about that.

The restaurant sits on top of a building with a lovely view, with a balcony at the very top. The weather is nice enough that they take their seats there, the table fitted with an umbrella to keep the sun’s bright morning beams at bay. 

Margot’s wearing a blouse, a brighter color than he normally sees her in. It brings out the color of her eyes when she takes off her sunglasses. Oskar thinks she’s beautiful, even with the sadness that always lingers behind her gaze.

“How have you been?”

It’s the same question he always asks when they’re alone, perhaps the most important question. Margot sits back in her chair, looks out at their view of Baltimore, and seems to contemplate her words. Then, almost surprised, she answers, “I really don’t know.”

It’s not the answer he expects, but Margot’s always surprising him. He sips his coffee, tries not to push too much. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Margot draws in a deep breath, and when she releases it, the tension seems to go from her shoulders. “I’m not sure what my brother is up to, but he’s been acting differently.”

“Is different good?”

“Not with Mason.” Margot shakes her head, looks back towards the city. “No, a change in my brother’s behavior usually proves to be  _ drastic _ for me.”

She picks up her own glass, whiskey on the rocks. Oskar’s just happy she hasn’t moved on to the second one, yet. But he’s curious, and he knows that in some way, talking about it does help her. It’s not like Oskar’s going to tell anyone, and he’s never been known to judge.

So, he dares to ask. “Does he still--”

“Keep a close eye on me?” Margot’s looking at him again, sets her glass down after she indulges in a single mouthful. She glances back towards the restaurant itself. When Oskar follows her gaze, he finds the driver sitting alone at a table, staring directly back at them. “Yes. But he’s been less… attentive, as of late.”

Oskar looks away, almost shivers at the cold, analytical gaze the driver had. He turns towards the city's view so that even as he speaks, he knows his lips can’t be read. “You should get away from that place for a while. Come stay with me.”   
  
“And tell him what, exactly?”

“That you’re staying with a friend.”

Margot lets out a laugh, small but very much there. “I might as well ask him for one of his chocolates.”

It’s then that Oskar begins to feel helpless. He wants to be there for Margot, to help her, but there’s a lot that he can’t do from where he stands. Right now, he’s powerless.

“Actually,” Margot begins, as though she’s realizing something, “Mason  _ is _ supposed to be gone this weekend for some conference or something. He leaves Friday to catch his flight.” She pauses, as though in thought, and then adds, “I could order a taxi and stay at yours. I’d just have to be back Saturday night, just in case Mason tries to  _ surprise  _ me by getting home early.”

It’s an opportunity to steal her away from the stress of her life, to spend some quality time with Margot beyond their limited visits. Oskar smiles, nods, and tries not to display just how excited he truly is.

Margot picks up her glass again, though she raises it in a toast. “To Friday?”   
  
Oskar’s happy to see the smile on her face, small though victorious. He raises his cup and brings it to hers, answering, “To Friday.”

* * *

Friday does not come fast enough. As soon as Margot is back on Muskrat Farm, she is keenly aware that her brother is  _ around _ . His presence always lingers there, a constant in her life.

She’s grateful for his lack of attention in the last week, as alarming as it is. It’s awful that her normal is when Mason finds ways to torment her, like the trapped animal she so often feels like she is. When  _ he’s _ the animal.

And just like so many animals in the animal kingdom, sometimes, he appears very still before he strikes.

Margot thinks she might have survived the wait by the time Thursday night comes. Mason’s supposed to be packing for his trip, and Margot’s taken the opportunity to settle with a book by the fireplace in one of their two living rooms.    
  
She’s warm, comfortable as she can get without hiding in her room. And even there, there are too many memories, too much for those walls to have seen and  _ not _ speak when she’s in there.

As with almost everything, Mason just has to interrupt.

“Whatcha reading?”

His voice comes from behind her, startling her even if it’s not too close. He’s good at sneaking up on her, even after all these years. Just when she thought she could get away with enjoying herself…

Margot closes the book and tucks it between her and the arm of the couch. “Nothing,” she answers plainly, listening for the sound of his shoes against the floor as he approaches her. She looks into the flames of the fireplace, almost thinks she might see his face reflected there. “What do you want?”

“Oh, Margot,” Mason says her name like he’s mocking her, false pity laced in his words. He’s standing behind the couch now, and Margot manages not to flinch when he brings his hand to her hair, petting slowly. “You know better than to keep things from me.”

He reaches down with the hand that isn’t stroking her hair and grabs the book. Mason only glances at the cover, and when he finds it unsatisfying, he tosses it to the other end of the couch. Margot watches it land out of arm’s reach.

_ Here we go _ .

“What I want,” Mason reiterates, leaning down so that his face is next to Margot’s so that even if she won’t look directly at him, she can still see him, _ feel _ him in her personal space, “is for you to tell me about the plans you’ve made this weekend.”

Margot can feel her stomach drop, and she closes her eyes. It’s then that she feels Mason sink his fingers into her hair, tugging back abruptly. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of making a sound, gritting her teeth and opening her eyes.

When she opens her eyes, she can see he’s waiting for his answer. There’s no use in trying to lie to him when he’s looking at her like that. “I’m going to a friend’s.”

“A friend?” Mason loosens his grip on her hair, combing his fingers through her hair, instead. “You don’t have  _ friends _ , Margot. Not really.” He combs a strand of hair from her face, and Margot has to fight back the tears that come to her eyes. 

She  _ won’t  _ let him win. “Oskar is my friend. He cares about me, and he’s invited me to spend a day with him in the city.”

“And spend the night?”

Margot’s silence is all the answer he’s looking for. Mason shakes his head and stands up again, and Margot turns her attention back to the fire. She’s expecting another sharp tug of her hair, the impact of his hand against her cheek or his hand around her throat, but it never comes.

Instead, all he says is, “Invite him here, instead.”

Somehow, that’s almost worse. “ _ What? _ ”

“I said,” Mason repeats himself, wrapping his hand around her hair and pulling so that her head tilts back and she’s left looking up at him, “invite your little boy friend here.”

Margot keeps her gaze hard as she looks back at him, but the angle betrays her as a tear slips from her eye. Mason’s lips part as he watches it fall, but it’s dropped and landed on her shoulder before he could catch it. It’s a victory in her book. “He’s  _ not _ my boyfriend.”

Mason laughs at that, and he finally lets go of Margot’s hair so that she can return to her normal posture. “I know that, Margot. I’m well aware of your… sexual preferences.”

Margot winces and brings her hand up to rub the back of her neck. Mason’s hand soon moves over hers, his grip far harsher, almost bruising.

“Besides,” he almost whispers, getting closer to her ear once more, “we both know you have a very,  _ very _ specific taste in men.” He brushes his lips against her cheek, and Margot closes her eyes, swallows hard.

Mason laughs, soft and playful against her skin before he stands up again. Finally, he takes his hands back, and she hears him step back once, twice. “Call him,” he orders her as he makes his retreat. “I’ll arrange to have him picked up early so I can meet him before my flight.”

Margot doesn’t answer, but they both know she doesn’t have to because she’ll do what he says. She’s left there, cold despite the fire, both in the fireplace and in herself. The desire to read has left her, and she feels as though she’s failed.

The real victory, she hopes, is that Mason still takes his flight.

* * *

Oskar isn’t expecting the call he gets from Margot. If anything, she’s one to text first, so for his phone to buzz continuously with her name in view -- it’s a little alarming.

It’s enough to pull him away from his current client, who’s really just looking for a touch-up, and they’re nice enough to let him excuse himself to take the call. He steps out of the shop to the narrow staircase that leads straight down to the sidewalk three stories down, answers the call, and brings his phone to his ear.

There’s no crying, nothing to alarm him right away. Except for the silence. “Margot?”

“Oskar.” Margot’s voice seems to break on the one word, and then he hears her clear her throat, draws in a sharp breath. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

“Oh.” Oskar places his hand on the wall, steadying himself for whatever he’s about to hear. “Are we-- I mean, is the weekend canceled?”

“Not exactly.” He hears something, like the sound of the phone being moved around, and then Margot speaks again, quieter. “Mason just insisted I invite you to Muskrat Farm.”

“Why?”

“To meet you. And so he can keep eyes on me and what we get up to while he’s gone.” She sighs heavily, “God only knows. Have your bags packed by three, okay? I’ll be there to pick you up around then.”

Oskar opens his mouth to answer, but he hears the beep that indicates the call has ended. He pulls his phone back to look at the screen; the call didn’t fail, Margo just ended it.

He’s reluctant to return to work, but deep down, he knows she’ll be okay. She has to be.

Nevertheless, he worries about her. He worries while he finishes his work, thinks about it on his way home, and tries his best not to dwell on it while he’s trying to sleep. 

But when he wakes in the morning, his worries have shifted to a different perspective. It settles in that he has to meet Mason, that he has to experience the person Margot seems to dread most of all. And not only that, but he has to make an  _ impression _ with him, if he’s got any hope of being on his good side. Whatever’s left of it, anyway.

Despite everything he knows about the nature of Mason and Margot’s relationship, he tries to be optimistic. That’s not to say that he doesn’t believe Margot because he does. It’s more about believing, or hoping, that there’s good in everyone. Even if it’s hard to see.

Oskar tries to remind himself of that while he gets ready and packs a bag for the weekend.

The car arrives at three, just as Margot promised. Oskar locks his door and makes his way down to the street. The door is open and he can see Margot waiting for him inside. Since he only has the one bag, he brings it into the back seat with him, setting it on the floor between them. 

As soon as he has the door closed behind him, the driver takes off. As always, there’s little room to chat, and Oskar’s struggling to keep up his optimism with such a heavy atmosphere in the car alone.

Muskrat Farm doesn’t look the way Oskar always imagined in his mind. It’s a large estate, with acres of land that span all around their home. But despite the discontent that Margot has always expressed about the place, Oskar can’t help but admire its beauty.

Not many places around Baltimore look like this.

The driveway is long but not unpleasant, and the driver leads them all the way to the front entrance before he puts the car in park. The driver does not move, but Margot does, and Oskar is mindful to follow her lead.

With his bag in his hand, he follows her up the stone steps and into the manor.

Immediately, Oskar is struck with the beauty of their home. Everything about it, from the flooring to the walls, lights, and decor, just screams _ wealth _ . Lots of money and good taste for where it’s spent.

To Margot, it’s nothing special.

To Oskar, it’s exquisite, unlike any place he’s ever been before.

“Ah, Margot!” A voice calls from somewhere above them, and when Oskar looks up, he sees him.

Mason Verger, formally dressed and wearing a pleased expression as he makes his way down the stairs with one of his men in tow holding a travel suitcase in each hand. When his eyes land on Oskar, he’s not sure how to feel about his piercing gaze. 

“And  _ you! _ ” Mason points to Oskar as he reaches the final steps. “You must be Oskar.” He extends his hand to him as he approaches, and Oskar near panics before he remembers to extend his own to accept the handshake. 

Mason’s grip is firm, solid but cold with the feel of his leather gloves. He shakes like Oskar imagines any businessman does, but for he holds on longer than Oskar’s used to. In fact, he just holds him there, looking him over. 

“My,” Mason drawls out, letting his eyes linger as much as he pleases, “you have a lot of freckles, don’t you?”

Immediately, Oskar can feel his face heat up, and Margot’s chiding her brother’s name in the hopes that he’ll back off.

He lets go of Oscar’s hand and turns his attention to Margot. “ _ Margot _ . Why haven’t I met this one before?”   
  
Oskar looks to Margot in time to see her roll her eyes at her brother’s words. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Do I?” Mason glances behind himself at the man holding his bags, awaiting further instruction. Mason gives a wave of his hand, gesturing towards the stairs. “Take those back to my room. I won’t be needing them.”

“What?” Margot hisses at her brother as the man returns up the stairs. “Mason, don’t do th--”

“Do what, Margot? I think our guest, your  _ friend _ , deserves a proper tour, don’t you?” He raises his eyebrows and leans towards her like he’s daring her to refute.

Oskar shakes his head. “I don’t need a tour, really.”

Mason makes a face before he begins to laugh, almost as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Of  _ course  _ you do! I insist.” He moves to dip his hand into one of his coat pockets, only to pull out a small, wrapped piece of candy. “Have a chocolate!”

“ _ Mason _ .” Margot snaps before Oskar reacts to take it. “Just get on with it. Please.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Oskar sees Margot turn to look at him, and the look on her face is sad, almost apologetic. He’s beginning to understand why.

Mason seems to set his jaw as he looks at Margot, but he pockets the chocolate, anyway. “Very well. Come,” he insists, the smile back on his face. “I’ll show you all the best places in the house.”

With that, he turns to lead them, and Margot places her hand on Oskar’s back. She guides him in following her brother, though maintains the contact as though she fears she might lose him at any moment.

But Oskar isn't afraid. 

Not yet.

* * *

By the time Mason’s run out of rooms to show Oskar and things to say that will make Margot squirm, the sun has begun to set and they’re being called to dinner. Mason’s thrilled he doesn’t have to go to that silly conference; this is much more fun.

Especially when he gets to play detective.

To Mason, it’s only natural that he makes an attempt to get to know the people his sister tries to hold so close -- and Oskar is no exception. The moment he saw him, he was struck by his appearance. The curls of his hair, the freckles that covered his face.

_ Like angel kisses _ .

Okay, so he’s still thinking about that OnlyFans account. But he sent a message two days ago, and there’s been no response, so naturally, his patience is running thin.

Oskar, however, seems like the perfect ploy to get his mind off things. Not to mention how much fun it is to get a rise out of Margot -- he could never get tired of that.

It’s something he aspires to do every day, just to remind her that he  _ can _ . 

At the dinner table, though, his attention is shifted to Oskar, who just can’t seem to look Mason in the eye longer than a few seconds at a time. It’s amusing, as it reminds Mason of his power over people. Their fear of him.

That and the pink tint on Oskar’s face when he looks away just  _ really _ pleases him.

Their drinks are brought to them first, wine poured along with a glass of water. Margot has her whiskey, and as she picks up her glass to swirl it, she looks to the head of the table, where Mason sits, addressing him. “No martini tonight?”

“Not tonight.” Mason doesn’t bother picking up either of his glasses, and he almost doesn’t bother looking at his beloved sister as he adds, “We’re a little short on ingredients, Margot.”

He laughs at the implications of it, knowing that only Margot would understand what he means by it. With a smile on his face, he turns his attention back to Oskar, who’s only just had a sip of his water.

“Tell me, Oskar” Mason insists, speaking slowly, deliberate with his words, “where are you from?”

Oskar looks almost reluctant to respond, but his walls are nowhere near as built up as Margot’s are. “Iowa.”

“Iowa?” Mason sits up to the edge of his seat, places his elbows on the table. “You know, some of the best farmland in the  _ country _ is in Iowa. Did you know that?”

When Oskar just shakes his head, Mason just smiles. “Tell me about your family, Oskar. What do your roots look like?”

“Mason, stop.” Margot sounds tired, almost beaten with her drink still in her hand. “Can we please have a nice dinner?”

It seems that something about having personal company makes Margot a little braver than she should be, and as much as Mason would like to replace the look on her face with something else far more entertaining, he decides to play the game.

Mason sits back in his chair, a move that looks like a retreat when it’s anything but. At that time, their dishes are brought from the kitchen and set before each of them. Mason likes to keep the best staff on hand, so immediately, the dining room is filled with wonderful, exquisite scents.

Now, Papa would usually command that everyone join hands in prayer before eating, but Mason only keeps that tradition for holidays or larger gatherings. Besides, he’s far more concerned with observing Oskar, finding his weaknesses.

Like Papa used to be so good at.

He watches Oskar thank the servant, and Mason grabs his glass of wine more to busy his hands than anything. He swirls it, brings it to his lips and has a taste, all while his eyes stay on Oskar.

But when Oskar reaches for one of the pepper shakers on the table, Mason sees something on his arm that catches his eye. Something he’s sure he’s seen before, and very  _ recently _ , in fact.

Mason nearly chokes on the wine, coughing as he lowers his glass back to the table. Both Margot and Oskar look to him, and Mason waves a hand to both them and his approaching servant to indicate that he is fine. Once he catches his breath, he lets out an exaggerated, “ _Whoo!_ ” 

It makes Margot jump, which only adds to Mason’s newfound excitement. “So,” he proceeds, setting his glass down and eyeing Oskar closely once more, “tell me, what do you  _ do _ , Oskar?”

He half expects the answer he’s looking for, but he doesn’t get it. Instead, Oskar responds, “Well, I’m a tattoo artist. Er, apprentice. For now.”

Mason nods, glances where he’s seen the tattoo on Oskar’s arm. He can’t see it so well now, but it’s certainly there, and it’s definitely the one he’s thinking about.

The one from the video.

“Is that all you do?”

The way Margot and Oskar both pause their movements tells him everything Mason needs to know as if he wasn’t sure of it already. Oskar swallows the food in his mouth, and Mason wonders just what he must feel like when he does it.

“Nope,” he answers, and the quiver in his tone betrays him. “My apprenticeship pays really well, actually.”

“Well, good.” Mason looks up, and the way he smiles is the polar opposite of his twin’s deep frown. His eyes stay with hers, daring her to look away first. “You know, I think Margot did _very_ well in picking you as her new best friend.”

Margot doesn’t look away as she takes another drink from her whiskey, doesn’t bother touching her food. He knows she’s suspicious of him, can tell by the twitch in her brow as she looks at him. It’s not his fault she willingly brought a new toy -- _the toy_ he's wanted for a while now -- just for him to play with, after all this time.

And Mason’s just getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments & kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
